


Scenic World

by ChellaC



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Cultural Differences, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Hero Worship, Identity Issues, Multi, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Team Bonding, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChellaC/pseuds/ChellaC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call her Redeemer, but Furiosa isn't sure what she's redeemed. The fragmented parts of the Citadel don't fit exactly together, and now that they're off the road, relationships forged on the run are tested. Luckily Max is there to help, and some fresh air might be what they both need. If Furiosa can manage a ragtag group of War Boys, former Wives, and whatever Max is, she just might learn what her new title means to both those she's saved and to herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenic World

Their new world was saplings and dust. The former Wives, now Sisters bonded stronger through their past than blood, coaxed life from the craggy earth of the Citadel, green sprouts reaching for the sun and for the water that ran to the mouths of the Wretched who were now Redeemed, to orphaned War Boys slowly waking to the new world, to any wanderer willing to help their search for more than what the Wasteland gave them.

In the month following the death of the Immortan, change came quickly. The Wretched were allowed inside the shade of the Citadel, making their homes on the lower levels of the blocks surrounding the main structure. Some of the War Boys had wandered off to join them, mostly the younger ones who could remember being taken. Those who stayed looked to Furiosa for direction. 

Redeemer, they called her, and followed her around, wary and impressed. Those who at first spat at her were soon swept up in the majority who spoke of her with hushed voices, speaking words of awe and terror. God-Killer, they called her. She had snatched Valhalla away and given them clean water to drink and the War Boys puzzled over this trade, turning it over and over, unable to deny it.

_ Furiosa _ , she wanted to scream, _ I am Furiosa and my home is gone, don’t take my name, too. _

When Max had returned with Nux slung over his shoulder she hadn’t thought he’d stay, but days went by and the man was at her elbow whenever he wasn’t with the boy in medical or letting the girls drag him all over the Citadel to show him what they’d created. He was steady and quieted her mind and that was all she could ask. The War Boys took his silent lingering for reverence. They emulated him, warped his stoic presence and built it up into worship. They hushed when she passed by, ducked their heads and wouldn’t meet her eyes, opened doors for her spoke quiet prayers when they thought she couldn’t hear. All the while waiting to be hit, for the water to stop flowing and the blood to start again.

“Tell them to cut it out with the cult stuff,” Toast said one evening when it was just Furiosa, the girls, Max and Nux in one of the Citadel’s larger rooms that had become their place, where they all gravitated together when the work was done. “You aren’t their Immortan. It’s creepy how they carry on.”

Nux, who had been sneaking wide-eyed glances at her all evening when he thought she wasn’t looking, flinched. Capable brushed her hand over his absentmindedly, the gesture coming naturally now. His weeks in the hospital had transformed her. The role of caretaker flattered her and she grew into it with strength and grace, living up to her name. It helped that the ex War Boy seemed to have accepted her as something of a familial presence, motherly but not quite, something like a protective older sister. Max and Furiosa had shared more than a few amused glances over the two of them.

For his part, Nux had done all he could to be helpful. Once the burns on his chest had healed and the deep gash on his thigh closed enough so he could walk, he’d spent all his time showing the girls around the Citadel, helping them explore where they’d never before been allowed to go, showing them the places with the right light for growing things, teaching them engines.

“It’s all they know,” Furiosa said. “Give them time.” And she did not miss the way Nux's body leaned towards hers like the new sprouts to the sun, how his restless fidgeting became focused when she was near and the manic gleam in his eyes turned begging, reaching for order and dominance she had not enforced with pain or starvation the way the Immortan had. She saw him hand her these things, his half-life put in her hands, and she wasn't sure yet how gently or firmly it needed to be held, or if she wanted to hold it at all.

Max gave her back a sense of security, but it was Nux who helped her retrieve her humanity. Her and the girls were searching for the last of the pups, rounding them up so they could be checked for sickness. Anything contagious spread quickly among the boys who lived in such close proximity to each other. They wandered to the bunk room, where they found him.

Other boys shuffled about, sitting in their bunks from force of habit, not yet ready to move to other areas of the Citadel, but they’d left a wide circle around Nux, who stood facing an empty bunk with his shoulders hunched. He wouldn't have dared stand with such a defeated posture in the old days, when it would've marked him an easy outlet for aggression, but the only boys in the room were even sicker than he was and seemed happy not to interrupt him, even if they did watch like birds of prey, waiting for him to break. The look on Nux's face may have been soft but it was familiar to them and though the boys were course, violent creatures of habit they were not unfeeling.

Furiosa approached him, the girls following. Dozens of eyes tracked them across the room, watched Furiosa come to stand beside him.

“This was yours,” she said. 

He nodded, and he was biting the inside of his mouth, shaking with the force it took to hold back his tears, hold back the raw scream burning up his throat. Furiosa knew the feeling. His eyes were shiny and wide.

“You shared,” she said. "Another War Boy...Slit." He opened his mouth to reply, made a little choking sound and quickly shut his lips, giving a jerky nod instead. He turned his face and put an arm over his eyes, curling his body away from her.

“He’s gone?” she asked.

“He’s dead,” Nux said, voice thick and trembling. “I don’t know where he is anymore. Imperator, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be down here, seeing me like this, I swear in just a second I’ll stop.”

“He was your lancer,” Furiosa said.

Nux took a shaky breath. “He was half of me. It was never...I never thought it would be just one of us. I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

Furiosa put a hand on his shoulder and he broke, a hand against his eyes as sobs sent his body shaking worse than night fevers. It was quiet, Nux muffling his sounds by biting down on his knuckles. Blood beaded against his teeth. It was clear to Furiosa what to do, simple to pull him to her with her prosthetic, run her flesh hand down his head. Soft hair had begun to grow across his skull, barely visible. He trembled against her and she shushed him while the girls stood behind her in shock. Furiosa had held them like that, before they’d escaped. Angharad had held them like that, too.

“I didn’t know War Boys could cry,” Dag whispered.

“Of course they can,” Cheedo said. “Anyone can cry when they're sad.”

Furiosa looked over her shoulder and saw Max watching her, saw the haunted look in his eyes and knew he saw it in hers, too. There was one person as likely to comfort her as she was to comfort him, and to have just one person know she was made of more than rock and steel sent a chill down her spine.

After that Nux was timid to be around the other boys, knowing he’d broken some unspoken rule, but they didn’t beat him, and neither did Furiosa, and they saw that she did not and knew her to be Merciful. And they called her many things: Liberator, Protector, Water-Bearer. And the things they called her didn’t bother her as much, because she was all of them and other things, too.

Later they sat in a circle together in the room they had claimed by the light of a fire, all of them warm and blurred in the wavering light, and Nux leaned against Capable and the girls seemed to understand that they were not alone in reclaiming their lives, and this made them determined and wise.

“Tell us about your lancer,” Dag said.

“He was...devoted,” Nux said, staring at Capable’s ankle and through it to somewhere else. He glanced up at her for a moment and she nodded with a soft smile to let him know he'd used the right word, a word she'd taught him. “He could be very mean and very soft at the same time and he only got away with the softness because he was so nasty most of the time. I don’t know how to say it, sometimes it just seemed like he was the only person I knew at all. He liked things to be perfect, to work smooth you know. He helped me do this,” Nux said, brushing his fingers over the V8 scars on his chest.

Toast flinched and seemed confused at the gentle way Nux touched the raised marks, looked around and saw the other girls trying to understand something she did not, and was frustrated.

“Tell me about the other girl?” Nux said. “The girl who...who died on the road.”

They were quiet for a moment, before Capable spoke.

“Angharad was patient and an excellent listener. She was assertive and it killed her to be locked up. She hated being told what to do. I never saw her happier than the day we left, even though we were all so afraid. She could be very cold and very kind all at once and we loved her for the coldness because she was kind most of all.”

“Loved?” Nux said, and Max stared around at him and the girls as though trying to memorize them in this moment, as though whatever he was witnessing was something he needed to keep burned in his mind to look at later.

“Loved,” Cheedo said, leaned against the Dag. “It’s how you feel about people you want to keep safe. You want to be near them even when they make you upset or hurt you.You feel warm around them.”

“That’s a soft word,” Nux said, still gazing far away. “Not surprised I didn’t know it.”

Toast stood abruptly. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Don’t bother trying to know it now. It got killed in the heat just like everything else.”

They watched her stalk off through the door to the room the girls shared.

“That’s not true,” Furiosa said after a moment. “And Toast knows that. She’s been hurt and doesn’t think she’ll feel anything but hurt ever again. She’ll be alright.”

The Dag rose to go to her and Max took her wrist loosely in his hand.

“Give her some space,” he said.

They sat and watched the fire burn down while the sun began to light up the wastes.

 

Max had been helping Furiosa work on the other War Rig. He didn’t ask where she planned on taking it, and she didn’t ask if he’d come. The girls sat on top of it, worn out from pestering her about why she was fixing it up, and Nux was up to his elbows in the engine.

“Bloodbag,” Nux said, peeking his grease-stained head around to the cab. “Pass me that rag. My hands are too slippery to hold stuff.”

“Max,” Max said with a pained expression. “Please just call me Max.” He tossed the rag. 

“What’s that?” Capable spoke up from above, shielding her eyes to stare out into the sun at the opening of the garage. A stocky figure was lurching into sight, something large dragging behind it. It had to stop every few steps to yank the chain it was holding, pulling whatever was at the end along. It stepped into the entrance of the garage and the sun spilled over it and made it human.

Nux dropped the wrench he’d been holding and it clattered, deafening against the stone. The sound of blood in the ears, a fly buzzing nearby. Wind outside, blowing the stinging sand. Nux stepped forward.

Slit pulled a Buzzard along on a chain, the two of them connected as the Buzzard’s blood pumped steadily into Slit’s arm. He gripped a wheel in his right hand and held it out to Nux, who took the other side in his hand. They held it like that between them for a moment. 

Nux went to his knees then, all of them quiet and watching, and looked up at Slit, his posture screaming submission, begging acceptance if not forgiveness, begging a punch across the jaw or a kick in the gut to make things even. Instead Slit wavered on his feet and fell to his knees in front of Nux as well, heatsick and dehydrated.

Furiosa watched Nux reach forward, slow at first so his hand hung in the air between them, then holding Slit behind his head and bringing their foreheads together. The other boy winced away before leaning into the touch, eyes half-lidded, skin slick with cold sweat that washed away his war paint, burned and peeling pink skin beneath it like a newborn.

Furiosa watched and felt the wheel of the War Rig beneath her hand. Felt the muscles there, the calloused palm just as strong as her metal one, though meant for entirely different tasks. She felt the pedal with her foot and heard the wind whisper  _ Redeemer, Defender, Seeker _ . There was a road out in the sun and she was ready to be on it again. Things were moving out in the sand.

 

Slit snapped at Furiosa when she came at him with the chain-cutter. She stared him down and cut the Buzzard free and the body slumped to the floor, breathing raspily. Max lifted it. There was no discerning features or gender beneath the many layers of grimy clothes.

“You’re hurt. We need to get you to medical,” Furiosa said. Slit’s brow furrowed and he glared around at them like an animal with its foot in a trap.

“The Organic,” Nux said hurriedly. “That’s sorta what she means, Slit. Get you fixed up. You can have all the aqua cola you want, Imperator will give it to you.”

Slit faced him, a gash above his right eye oozing blood into his vision. Nux stood and offered a hand Slit didn’t take, but the other boy leaned heavily against him as Furiosa led them to medical where the Valkyrie and the Organic Mechanic had been treating the War Boys and the people of the Citadel. She greeted them when they arrived.

“Another one?” the Valkyrie said, quickly leading Slit to a bench and silencing his growl with a glare.

“Just got in from the sands,” Furiosa said, the girls clustering around her.

Nux hovered at Slit’s shoulder but was careful not to touch the other boy.

The Valkyrie tutted, taking Slit’s jaw in her hand and tilting his head up. Slit hissed.

“Oh, quiet, you. What’s all this?” she said, poking the staples in his cheek. Slit jerked away. “Your face is rotting away here,” she said.

“That’s not what he needs help with, that’s always been like that,” Nux piped in. “Well, not always, see, he wanted to just make a scar on his cheek, only he got Toll to help him 'cause I was sick so I couldn't do it, even though everyone knows Toll’s got lead hands and has that grudge against Slit for that one time he nearly got him blown up, and Toll cut straight through his cheek. Couldn’t talk or eat for a week. I had to chew his food for him like he was a sick pup.”

“Nux,” Slit said. “Shut it.” Nux clammed up.

“Well, it’s going to need treatment anyway. I don’t know how you boys used to do things but I’m not having you walk around with rot,” the Valkyrie said. She had a needle in Slit’s arm before he had a chance to notice.

“What’s that?” he said, scrambling away right into Nux.

“Sedative,” the Valkyrie said. “Relax. You’re going to feel better soon.”

Slit struggled for a moment before going limp. Nux supported him against his chest, careful to keep his head from falling to the right. The ear on that side was mangled and dangling, dripping blood onto Nux’s cargo pants.

“Lay him down,” the Valkyrie said. “You all, out. Cheedo, War Boy, stay. I may need extra hands.”

“What am I, spare parts?” the Organic Mechanic asked. “I’m the one who helped staple that cheek shut, you know.”

“Oh, and you did such a great job with that,” the Valkyrie said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I don’t know, Slit and I kinda like it,” Nux said. “Looks pretty chrome and all.”

The Valkyrie muttered something about men and fools and went about getting an IV in Slit’s arm.

 

“Think he’ll make it?” Max asked when he and Furiosa were alone.

“The boys are tough,” Furiosa said. “I remember Slit. Likes to think he’s the toughest. If he doesn’t make it, it’s not for lack of trying, no matter what he thinks about Valhalla.”

Max hummed low in his throat. “And what does he think about that? He was one of the ones from the chase. He might not fall in line like the rest of them.”

“We’ll do our best to heal him. After that he has a choice. If he wants to live in the old ways, he’ll have to leave,” Furiosa said. “Give him a little time. These boys might have been Joe’s believers, but the pack mentality was always stronger than what it enforced. I wouldn’t be surprised if just the fact that all the other boys are happy enough with the new way is enough to convince him after awhile.”

“Let’s hope,” Max said. “Don’t think Nux would take it well if we had to run him off. Don’t want Nux going too, or the ones who’ll follow him. Pack mentality, you know.”

Furiosa gave a small smile, more amused than annoyed at having her words used against her. She knew Max was only giving her a chance to talk things through, to work out problems before they arose.

“No. Nux will be important in getting the boys to cooperate, and working out our new relations with Gas Town and the Bullet Farm,” Furiosa said. “I’m not worried about him leaving. At this point I don’t think the girls would let him anyway.”  
Max smiled at that. “Can’t keep anyone if they don’t want to stay. You can lock him up, but you can’t make him really be here if he doesn’t want to be.”

“I know that,” Furiosa said.

“Where’re you taking that rig?” Max asked.

“Why? Thinking about going someplace?” Furiosa asked. Max shrugged. 

Furiosa sighed and said, “We need supplies. I know we’ve just started here, but it’s not enough. If we want this to last we need more than bullets and gasoline to trade for. I want to go into town. Not all the way to the city, not yet. Start smaller, work our way out. See what’s left and how far we have to go.”

Max huffed and nodded. Medicine, clothes, materials- these things were in short supply out on the sands.

“I’m going,” Furiosa said. “I want the girls to come too.”

“Probably safer leaving them here,” Max said. “You’ve got all the leftover War Boys ready to die for your orders. Not to mention all those people you took in.”

“I know,” Furiosa said. “But they’re the young or the sick, and honestly I don’t want to leave them either. But someone has to stay just in case Gas Town or the Bullet Farm manage to pull together. Just not the girls. I won’t leave them here.”

Max nodded. “Leave Nux in charge?”

Furiosa shook her head. “The Valkyrie, then Nux. If any boys decide not to listen to her, he can take care of it.”

“He’s one boy,” Max said.

“He’ll do it if I ask,” Furiosa said.

Max nodded. “He will. If you ask it of him.”

“We won’t decide yet. I’m not leaving right now,” Furiosa said. She stalked down the hall and didn’t look to see if Max followed.


End file.
